


Lakehouse

by bodhirooks



Category: Houdini & Doyle (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Doyle is Patient, Fluff, Gratuitous Use of First Names, Houdini is Jealous, M/M, Romantic Rivalry, Walking on the Beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7158266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirooks/pseuds/bodhirooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Houdini and Doyle intend to enjoy an early-morning stroll along the beach, but encounter a figure from Doyle's past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lakehouse

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a quick something I whipped up on ZenWriter - I hope you like!

The pier is long and narrow, forcing them shoulder-to-shoulder. Shoes scraping along the rotting wood, Houdini's hand nestles itself firmly in the crook of Doyle's arm. A soft smile graces the latter's lips, and he turns his face to the sky, absorbing the gentle rays of the morning sun. It barely crests the sloping hills across the waves, casting the scene into light yellow, dark water lapping gently against the shoreline. Cool wind plays with their hair, ghosting across the tips of Doyle's ears. It's absolutely breathtaking. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he whispers, reverent.

"It is..." Houdini replies, and for once his words are twin to their precursor.

Their footfalls stop at the edge of the pier, and together they sit, toes nearly touching the water. Houdini rests his head against Doyle's shoulder, sighing contentedly.

"What're we doing here, huh?" he asks, voice still quiet but tone light.

Doyle shakes his head fondly, shy at the touch, but he answers. "We're enjoying ourselves, are we not?" Craning his neck to the side, he glances down at the man against him.

Houdini's yawn is obnoxious, as are most things about him. "I'm tired, and it's like, two o'clock in the morning."

Doyle doesn't mind. "And yet here you are," he quips, refraining from mentioning it is in fact five, thank you very much.

Houdini quiets at that, bringing himself up before canting his shoulders, leaning in with a playful grin. "Your fault." He plants a lingering kiss on Doyle's cheek, pulling away slowly, hesitant as magnetism.

Doyle sighs happily, cheeks a pleasant pink. "I suppose so," he smiles, and Houdini laughs.

They talk quietly, recalling outlandish stories from younger days, coaxing as much enjoyment as they can from the moment. Hours seem to pass. Enough time elapses for joints to stiffen, and the pair stand, heading up the pier and down the sandy shore.

"I'm glad you dragged me up here, Doyle," Houdini comments. "It was nice."

"Indeed," Doyle agrees, lacing their fingers together. Houdini grins, swinging their arms happily. Sand gives way to cobbled trails, and they continue chatting idly.

Houdini is painting an elaborate picture of his penultimate escape, visualizing with his hands and excited voice. Doyle laughs along, enjoying the story and the absence of cynicism. Seeing Harry bloom under his watch is a rare delight, and Doyle pays no heed to where he's heading.

Something solid collides with his chest, and he stumbles back.

"Doyle, are you alright?" Harry is holding him up in an instant, worried.

"Yes, I- I'm fine... Just winded..." Drawing up, he turns to the man before him. "Sir, I apologize- ... George?"

Houdini frowns, glancing between his partner and the stranger. "You know him?"

Smiling brightly, the subject in question seizes Doyle's hand, straight out of Houdini's. "Arthur! My lord, it's been an age!"

Doyle nods along with the bobbing of their palms, a perplexed grin on his face. "Indeed it has. What... are you doing here?"

Houdini's fists come between Doyle and his acquaintance, displeasure etched into his features. “Who are you?” he demands of the unknown gentlemen.

"George Budd," he introduces, dropping Doyle's hand and shaking Houdini's. Twin rows of pristine teeth peak out from shapely lips, and Doyle can't help but recall days long passed. The blonde hair has grayed and the sculpted jaw softened, but George is just as lovely as he remembers.

"Harry Houdini..." The greeting brings Doyle back from memory’s verge. Voice skeptical and curious, Houdini’s narrow eyes look to Doyle for explanation.

"George and I practiced medicine together in Plymouth," Doyle says, turning back to Budd. "How are you, how have you been?"

Ever charming, Budd pulls Doyle to his chest in a warming embrace. "I've been getting by," he replies, modest. "But what about you, old friend? How are those books of your fairing?"

Doyle chuckles. "I've been getting by," he teases, and Budd grins.

"Don't we have somewhere to be?"

Houdini's voice nearly startles him, and Doyle turns, pulling out of Budd's arms. An intense expression of spite and urgency dusts Harry's face, and slowly Doyle nods.

"Yes, I... I'm afraid we do have to get going," he fibs, giving Houdini the benefit.

Budd nods, understanding. "We must have dinner some time!" he insists, turning away and waving.

Doyle waves in turn, smiling softly as he watches George go.

"Asshole."

Spinning, Doyle gapes at Houdini's obscenity. "Don't be rude! You've only just met him!"

Arms crossed, Houdini raises an unimpressed brow. "And I don't like him."

Doyle shakes his head disbelievingly, arms outspread. "Whyever not!"

Pouting, Houdini turns away, silent.

"Harry..." Doyle huffs, resting a hand on the man's back, turning him gently. "Are you jealous?"

Harry lurches away, angry eyes averted. "No…!"

Doyle scoffs. "Harry." There is no reply, and Doyle turns his back. "Fine. I suppose I'll head home by myself, then..."

As he walks away, hurried footsteps catch up with him. "Wait!" Houdini takes him by the elbow, pulling him to his chest. "Yeah, I was jealous..."

Hugging him close, Doyle takes pity. “It’s alright…” he soothes, “But there’s no reason to be…”

Houdini gently extracts himself from the hold, palms resting against Arthur’s hips. “You saying that makes me think there is.”

Glancing down, ashamed at being caught, he chews his lip.

“Doyle.” Houdini’s voice is firm. “Tell me.”

Slowly, Doyle nods. “Let’s find a bench, shall we?”

A bench is not far out of hand; the wood mirrors that of the pier, worn with age and conversations alike. Doyle taps his finger against the rusting arm, laying bare his thoughts.

"George and I were... very close, in Plymouth."

Houdini bristles, and Doyle sighs. "How close?" is demanded, and he responds.

"As close as you and I are now."

Chin slowly rising, Doyle chances a glance to the man at his side. Surprisingly, Houdini is silent, nodding thoughtfully.

"I'd expected you to go up in flames," he comments wryly, hoping to lighten the mood.

Melancholy, Houdini shakes his head. "I won't begrudge you a past," he states, taking Doyle's hand loosely in his. "Besides, you don't want to see him again."

Doyle's eyes slide shut, a bare moment of confession. "That's the thing, Harry. I would like to see him again. Only as friends, I assure you."

Conflict flits across the illusionist's face - something he can not hide. Doyle sees it in the way his eyes flash and the purse of his lips.

"You do trust me not to deceive you, don't you?" he asks gently, expression soft, fond, imploring. "I simply wish to reacquaint with him, I would never hurt you, Harry. I'm loyal, you know that."

Houdini does not hesitate to nod. "Of course I know that. I practically had to claw you away from your wife, and even then you only came to me when you had her blessing."

Doyle frowns disapprovingly - he does not care to unseal the floodgates of guilt, nor revisit the forgiving light in Mary's eyes as she slipped away again.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, that was in poor taste."

Doyle's brows quirk in a brief expression of agreement, but he allows the issue to rest.

Houdini's head is bowed in apology, lips open in rumination. "Anyways, yes, I trust you. But you're right, I am jealous."

Smiling fondly, Doyle raises the man's hand to his lips, brushing against his knuckles. "That just shows me you care. However, I won't become one of those housewives, trapped in the home, not allowed to visit friends."

Houdini laughs, picking up his partner’s depreciating humor. "Nah, I won't do that to yah," he jests, easy smile back in place, just how Arthur likes it.

Long moments pass as they tease and prod each other, gentle eye-contact giving way to brief caresses and a kiss. Enough being enough, as Harry says, the sun fully risen, they stand and walk across the waters.

* * *

 

 

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